Inside the Russian Embassy in London a KGB colonel pufTed a cigarette as he read the handwritten note for the third time. There was no need for the writer to express regret, he thought. Correcting this problem would be easy. He would do that in a moment. The thought of it caused a grim smile to appear and joy to his heart.
But he pushed away those thoughts and tumed his attention to a framed photograph on his desk. His wife was beautiful, he told himself as he remembered the day they were married. That was forty-three years ago, and it had been the proudest and happiest day ofhis life,
那些时候都发生了什么？为什么时光流逝得如此之快？为什么他没能将更多的时光用来陪伴她？为什么他没能将她搂紧，更多次地告诉她他 他于是开始诅咒起自己，泪水也忍不住夺眶而出，流过面颊，最后滴落在字条上。 她？
He stiffened and wiped his face with the back of his hand. There was no need for remorse or regret, he told himself. In a few moments he would join her and at that time would express his undying love and devotion.
removed a pistol from his pocket, placed the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trier. In the ashtray a small portion of the note remained. Where it had been wetted by his tear it had failed to bum, and on that scrap of paper were the words "died yesterday".